Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The day was particularly fine for the middle of November, and the streets of Meryton were crowded.
The ladies of Longbourn had been wandering for some time and inspecting the shop windows when Kitty collided with a handsome, tall gentleman who was standing with Lieutenant Denny of the militia quartered in Meryton.
Although their contact was slight and Kitty was in no danger of losing her balance, the man grasped her elbow as if she were about to tumble from the edge of a cliff.
Elizabeth glanced behind her to where Jervis lingered in the alleyway, ready to act if needed. She spoke quickly, hoping to avoid a scene. “My sister is unharmed, sir. Please remove your hands from her.”
The man laughed amiably. “Pardon me, ladies. I am Mr Geoffrey Willingham, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. And you ladies are…?”
“Leaving.” Elizabeth brusquely took Kitty’s arm.
Lieutenant Denny stepped forward. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. Willingham intends no disrespect.” He looked at his friend with meaning. “Do you?”
Willingham smiled charmingly. “Certainly not. Forgive me. I lose all sense of decorum with such beauty before me.”
This made Lydia giggle, but a quick squeeze to her arm from Jane stopped it immediately.
Elizabeth pursed her lips sternly and said, “Excuse us, please,” and turned to leave. She was shocked to find herself facing Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley on horseback.
Jane and Mr Bingley were at once in conversation, halting the Bennet sisters’ escape. Mr Darcy greeted everyone succinctly, including Lieutenant Denny. Mr Denny began to introduce Mr Willingham, but Mr Darcy stopped him. “We are acquainted. What do you do in Hertfordshire, Wickham?”
Mr Willingham had his back to the street when Darcy rode up but turned when he noticed Elizabeth’s surprise. When he saw Darcy, his face turned ashen, and he eased away from the group. “Forgive me. I have forgotten an urgent appointment.” He then made off at a quick pace.
Denny stared after his rapidly departing friend. “Strange…I wonder what ailed Willingham.”
“Willingham?” Mr Darcy rolled his eyes. “Do you mean Wickham?”
“Mr Geoffrey Willingham. He just purchased his commission. I saw his papers myself.”
Mr Darcy exhaled forcefully. “No, his name is George Wickham. I have known him nearly all my life. He is clearly up to nothing good then, using an assumed name.”
Jervis could scarcely wait to get back to Longbourn and send an express to his superiors.
Two days after the encounter in Meryton, Darcy was surprised to hear Bingley’s butler announce none other than his cousin and closest friend, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. “Fitzwilliam! What do you do here?”
Having served his country well in the past years on the Continent, Colonel Fitzwilliam had been returned to England and given his choice of orders in London.
His father had urged him to join in on the matter of Lord Courtenay’s murder, believing it would be a short assignment and not dangerous.
The investigative group was pleased to have him because of his prior connexion to the gunman, George Wickham, and sent him to Hertfordshire when they learnt Mr Wickham had been seen there.
Colonel Fitzwilliam gave Darcy a quick clap on the arm. “Some regimental business, Cousin.”
“Georgiana is well? Has she behaved?”
“She is with my parents. I am not sure of the use of that companion of hers. Less a companion than a co-conspirator, I think, but nothing for you to be concerned about at present.”
He paused, looking around him. “So, this is Bingley’s place, then? Quite nice, I must say. Any local lovelies to hold his interest?”
Darcy groaned. “You know Bingley—always a local lovely to interest him, though whether they can hold that interest is more doubtful.” The two men laughed and settled into conversation for the remainder of the afternoon.
As evening approached, they became restless and decided to take a quick ride about the countryside.
As they approached Oakham Mount, Darcy could make out the figure of a young woman walking alone with only a hound as her companion.
As she turned to descend the rise, he confirmed it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Darcy’s first instinct was to turn away and hope she had not seen them. Although he wished to greet her, he disliked the notion that she would meet his cousin.
Fitzwilliam was not considered conventionally handsome; however, he cut a fine figure in his regimentals and had a bearing that suggested manliness and danger.
Furthermore, he was easy, gregarious, and could flirt with impunity, knowing his position as a second son kept him safe from most matrimonial designs.
Darcy had no doubt that, within ten minutes, Miss Elizabeth would be utterly charmed by Fitzwilliam, and the very thought of it made his stomach turn.
Just then, she looked up and witnessed his indecision. Resolving himself to the meeting, he gestured to his cousin, and soon they had dismounted and stood with her.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I present to you my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam? Fitzwilliam, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The youngest son of Lord Matlock! Elizabeth was alarmed. She had never met Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been off serving his country throughout most of her ordeal, but she had heard of him, of course, and assumed he had heard of her as well. Does he know me?
She curtseyed quickly and raised her eyes in time to see a brief flash of question in the colonel’s and prayed he would say nothing to give her away. She was agitated, unaccountably distressed by the notion of Mr Darcy knowing her identity.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” Colonel Fitzwilliam did not conceal his delight. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last.”
“At last, sir?” Elizabeth decided that the best course of action would be to dispel any suspicions in the good colonel’s mind that she was the countess about whom he might have heard.
The colonel spoke warmly. “I have heard much of you, and none of the praise has been exaggerated, I see! I believe you are acquainted with my parents, are you not?”
As Darcy looked on with confusion clear on his face, Elizabeth enquired, “Your parents, sir?”
She felt quite the actress as she maintained a coolly polite yet questioning look upon her countenance.
Inside, however, she was shaking and could not wait to get away from the two men.
She felt unreasonably but adamantly opposed to the notion that Darcy, and thus the Bingleys, would know about her title and her wealth.
She was not exactly certain why she felt so strongly about it; everyone in London would know in a short time. In a short time, perhaps, but not now.
The colonel leant back, looking puzzled. “Yes—Lord and Lady Matlock are my parents.”
Elizabeth saw the moment that the colonel understood she did not intend to give away her identity. With a smile, he said, “Perhaps I am wrong. I believed they knew the Bennets of Hertfordshire, but I must be mistaken.”
She smiled back. “Regardless, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”
I like him. Elizabeth fell into easy banter with the colonel, her esteem for him increasing with each passing moment. She could not miss the blistering glares Mr Darcy sent in his cousin’s direction; no doubt, he despised every moment he was forced to bear her society.
She soon excused herself, telling the gentlemen she was needed at home. Both indicated they wished to escort her, but she was successful in evading their assistance, not wishing either man to realise she had a footman hiding in the shrubbery.